


soulbaes

by writers_haven



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Jearmin Summer Splash 2015, M/M, Prince!Jean, ScholarshipStudent!Armin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_haven/pseuds/writers_haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t that Armin <i>hated</i> his life.</p><p>In fact, his life was pretty good. He was making straight As in the best school in the country on scholarship. The uniform wasn’t awful like Shiganshina High’s had been. He hadn’t been shoved into a locker yet, which was always a plus. Sure, he hadn’t found his soulmate yet– the only other person in the world with a birthmark of a king chess piece– but that was out of anyone’s control.</p><p>(Written for Jearmin Summer Splash 2015)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is part of the Jearmin Splash 2015- a team based writing competition.  
> Prompt: "The duty of youth is to challenge corruption" -Kurt Cobain  
> Team: AU  
> Word Count: ~10 000
> 
> I am a terrible procrastinator and had to stay up until 4am last night finishing this off. Hope you enjoy~
> 
> Banner provided by [benriya-nic-kerdoodle](http://benriya-nic-kerdoodle.tumblr.com/)

It wasn’t that Armin _hated_ his life.

In fact, his life was pretty good. He was making straight As in the best school in the country on scholarship. The uniform wasn’t _awful_ like Shiganshina High’s had been. He hadn’t been shoved into a locker yet, which was always a plus. Sure, he hadn’t found his soulmate yet– the only other person in the world with a birthmark of a king chess piece– but that was out of anyone’s control.

The thing was… well. Armin had been attending the Reagle Institute for the Cultured and Honorable (R.I.C.H.) for two months already, and he hadn’t made any friends. He had accquaintances; people he shared classes with and people who looked at him funny when he tried to talk to them and people who tried to bribe him into doing their homework.

No friends.

It wasn’t exactly unexpected. The only people who could afford the ridiculous school fees at R.I.C.H. were celebrities and nobles – it was no surprise they thought themselves better than Armin. Even though R.I.C.H. had a scholarship program in theory, Armin was the only scholarship student, and that was largely thanks to his extreme persistence and flawless academic record. (He’d literally called the Dean of Students at least a hundred times a week, demanding a reason as to why they wouldn’t accept him. Armin wasn’t the best at taking no for an answer when it wasn’t justified.)

Well, thought Armin with a sigh as he took his seat in Sociology, he was here to study, not make friends. It was such a little thing, really. Nothing to get all angsty about. It wasn’t lonely.

…

Armin was a terrible liar.

_Can’t believe I miss Shiganshina High_ , he sent glumly to his group chat with Eren and Mikasa. _At least there people noticed me enough to shove me into lockers._

Eren should have been in the middle of class, but his reply was (unsurprisingly) instantaneous. _u ok?? nd me 2 kick rich kid ass??_

, sent Mikasa, who was supposed to be working.

Armin smiled. He still had those two, at least.

“Mr Arlert, no texting in class,” Ms Brzenska said sharply as she came into the classroom. Armin tapped out a quick _Thx_ to his friends before putting his phone away. Ms Brzenska was a great teacher, but she was also one of the strictest. Nobody wanted to get on her bad side.

“Today we’ll be starting on coursework,” announced Ms Brzenska, to a chorus of quiet groans. “Recap for those who’ve forgotten, each pair of students must produce a five-thousand word essay on their chosen topic, complete with footnotes and a bibliography. I have already chosen your partners–”

The class erupted into protest.

“Or you could write all five thousand words on your own,” Ms Brzenska suggested loudly, and the class fell silent. “I thought so.”

Armin bit the inside of his cheek nervously as Ms Brzenska started announcing the pairs. His last project partner had made him do _everything_ and gave him an invite to some B-list celebrity party that she obviously hadn’t wanted to go to as compensation. It hadn’t ended too badly; he really did end up doing everything, but faked a lost voice on the day they had to present it to the class and watched the girl crash and burn. That was what happened when you messed with Armin Arlert. Plus, he’d managed to sell the invite online at a truly ridiculous profit margin and used the money to do his Christmas shopping, so all in all it wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to Armin. Still, it wasn’t something he was itching to repeat.

“Hey,” came a grunt from beside him. Armin blinked. To his left, where Armin was used to seeing sleepy Liesl, now sat a tall boy with an undercut and a long face.

Jean Kirschtein. The Crown Prince of Rose himself.

…Why was he talking to Armin?

“Uh, hi,” Armin replied a little awkwardly, waiting for Jean (Prince Jean? The Prince? His Royal Highness? How was Armin supposed to address him?) to state his business.

There was an awkward silence.

Jean rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to get all starstruck, I’m switching partners,” he said shortly, starting to stand up. “This thing is worth half our grade, I don’t have the time–”

“Ah, no, sorry!” Armin interrupted quickly. Jean was intelligent, if a bit lazy with his work; if he was taking this seriously, Armin could see an A+ in their future. “I just, uh, wasn’t paying attention and didn’t realise you were my partner.”

Jean huffed in annoyance, but sat back down. “Didn’t realise you ever _stopped_ paying attention,” he grumbled. “You usually get all hot and bothered once Brzenska so much as mentions homework, it’s disgusting.”

“Says the guy thinking about me getting all hot and bothered,” Armin shot back easily, too used to Reiner’s vulgar humour. These rich Rose kids were too posh to be crude. “Should we start?”

Jean eyed Armin for a long moment. “You’re alright,” he admitted begrudgingly. “What did you want to do this essay on?”

Armin smiled politely. “I’m fine with anything, really,” he said, shrugging. “Up to you.”

“No, seriously,” Jean insisted, rolling his eyes again. “We get to pick from the entire syllabus. I know you’re way smarter than me, okay, just pick something that won’t bore you to tears when we have to research it.”

Armin hesitated. There _was_ something, one tiny sub-topic he’d only caught the tail-end of during his first week. But it was a lot of work, they’d have to do tons of outside research–

“Spit it out,” Jean snapped, impatient.

Ah, what the hell. “Soulmates,” Armin said timidly. “I know it’s not something we talked about a lot in class, but that’s why I’d like to find out more about it. Like, for example, how does it happen?”

Jean frowned, considering it. “Soulmarks are birthmarks, right? So it’s not like anything _happens_ , it’s just… there.”

“But how?” Armin persisted. “How are soulmates decided? Who decides? Is it God or destiny or is there a scientific explanation?”

“Hang on, this is Sociology, not The Origins of Soulmarks,” Jean interrupted just as Armin was getting fired up. He must have seen Armin deflate a little, because he continued quickly, “Not that it’s not an interesting subject, I’m just worried we’ll be marked down for irrelevance.”

Fair enough. “There are other things, too,” Armin said, eyes bright with excitement. “Has the system ever failed? Has there ever been three people– or even more!– with the same soulmark, or one person without a soulmate? We know there are soulmates who only feel platonic attraction to each other, but how are they viewed as opposed to romantic soulmates? Is it possible for a person to truly fall in love with someone who isn’t their soulmate?”

“You,” Jean said when Armin was finally done, sounding a little lost, “have a lot of questions.”

Ah, of course Jean wasn’t interested in this. He’d already found his soulmate in Princess Historia of Sina, everyone had known they were soulmates since the day he was born. In fact, their soulbond was the main reason Sina had joined the Wall Union. Jean’s soulbond was a given, a symbol of unity and peace. He had never needed to worry about how it worked.

“Sorry,” Armin said, smiling weakly. “I got a bit carried away. Didn’t mean to bore you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jean claimed rather convincingly, but Armin was pretty sure he’d had lots of practice pretending to be interested. “I was just going to say that your questions don’t have answers in our textbook, is all.”

Armin gave him a strange look. “Well, yeah,” he said slowly. “If they were answered in the book I wouldn’t have any questions.”

“You _read_ this?” Jean demanded, incredulous. “Damn, you really are a nerd.”

And there was the name-calling, great. Armin sighed. He’d been hoping they might become friends, but Armin guessed _nerds_ were below the great Prince Horseface, as Eren liked to call him. “Yes, well,” Armin sniffed, ignoring the nerd comment, “that means we’d have to do a lot of independent research, so maybe we should choose another topic.”

Jean scoffed. “What, you sore about the nerd thing? I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Look, soulmates sounds cool, Brzenska loves original topics, she’ll probably give us a C just for choosing it. Plus, research is a good excuse to avoid my royal duties.” Jean hesitated. “And, uh, now you got me curious about all that, too.”

Armin couldn’t believe his ears. Lazy Jean Kirschtein, who only ever did as much as necessary, nothing more, was interested enough to do independent research? With Armin? In a library?

“We’ll make a nerd out of you yet, Your Highness,” Armin teased, grinning.

Jean rolled his eyes, but his shove to Armin’s shoulder was playful.

\--

They came up with a rough essay plan in class and agreed to meet up in the library after school. Jean had soccer practice, so Armin sat himself in the library and got a headstart on his homework. He always preferred to finish work the day it was set.

Two hours later, he was chewing on his pen, frowning at his extra credit Algebra. It was less algebra and more a riddle, to be honest. Mr Pixis was an eccentric man who loved tricky questions. Armin was sure he was the only one who bothered to even try figuring the riddles out.

“You’re doing _homework_?” came Jean’s disgusted voice as he came up behind Armin. “Really?”

“Yes,” Armin replied absently, focused on the riddle. “You should try it.”

“Ha ha,” Jean said dryly, taking a seat across from Armin and pulling a laptop out of his bag. He was wearing his soccer kit– the short sleeves meant Armin could see Jean’s soulmark, a queen chess piece just above his left elbow.

“Ah,” Armin said without realising, because it was the first time he’d ever seen someone else with a chess piece for a soulmark. He’d sort of known what Jean’s soulmark was– Rose was _obsessed_ with their Prince, which Armin didn’t understand because Maria literally couldn’t care less about their sovereigns– but it was different seeing it in the flesh.

“What?” Jean asked, typing away. “You finally figure out Pixis’ demon extra credit?”

Armin shook himself. It was weird to stare at other people’s soulmarks, right? “Uh, no, unfortunately. It was nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Jean paused, looking at Armin suspiciously over his laptop. “I wasn’t going to until you said that,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Which just made his soulmark more visible. Great. “I hate it when people aren’t honest with me,” Jean continued, looking irritated. “Stop not saying things just because you think I’m not going to like it, okay, I’m not going to exile you or something.”

“Pretty sure you don’t have the power to exile anyone,” Armin tried to dodge the question. Jean wasn’t impressed. He just raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Armin sighed. “It really was nothing,” he repeated. “Your soulmark just looks a lot like mine and I was just– surprised, that’s all.”

“What’s your soulmark?” Jean asked, curious. “I’ve never seen a soulmark like mine before. I mean, apart from Historia’s, of course.”

Armin showed him the back of his right hand.

“What the hell, a king?” Jean complained. “You outrank me!”

Well, that was surprising. Armin had expected him to be more annoyed about a commoner _outranking_ him. “Only in name,” Armin pointed out. “The queen is the most powerful piece on the board, you know.”

“Yeah, but the king is the one pulling all the strings,” Jean argued. “All of his subjects’ power are his to command.”

Armin laughed. “You’ve never played chess before, have you?”

Jean kicked him lightly under the table. “Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean I’ve done all that posh nonsense.”

Seriously? Armin raised his eyebrows at Jean. “You literally own your own private yacht, on which you drink champagne out of flutes while wearing boat shoes and pastel cardigans,” Armin said dryly.

Was Jean… blushing? “Everyone has a private yacht,” he mumbled awkwardly. “In this school, anyway.”

Armin snorted. “Almost everyone,” he corrected. “If I could afford a private yacht, I wouldn’t be busting my ass for this scholarship.”

Jean paused, looking at him strangely. “You mean you have to maintain your grades to keep your scholarship?” he asked slowly, sounding horrified. “You don’t just get in and that’s it?”

Armin snorted even louder. He supposed it was good that Jean was taking an interest in learning about this, even if it was infuriating. “I wish it was that easy. Anything below an A- and I’m out of here.”

Jean was staring at him like he was a whole new person. “So you’re not nerdy because you’re _nerdy_ , but because you’ll get kicked out if you aren’t?”

Did the R.I.C.H. kids seriously think Armin _wanted_ to do every single piece of extra credit he could get his hands on? “Pretty much.”

“Huh.”

A short silence fell between them as Jean presumably allowed this information to sink in.

Armin cleared his throat, putting his homework away. “Should we get started?”

“Right, yes,” Jean agreed, turning back to his laptop. “Uh, I’ll take the internet, you take the books?”

“You just don’t want to read anything,” Armin accused, already heading for the Sociology aisle.

“What are you talking about, you’re just more experienced at book research than I am,” Jean said haughtily. “It’s efficient resource allocation, man.”

“Sure,” Armin agreed, chuckling. “Hey, can you even read?”

“Shut up!”

“ _Quiet in the library!!_ ” the librarian hissed at them.

Jean mumbled an apology to him, then turned to glare at Armin. Armin just laughed.

It was still early, but maybe… maybe Armin had made a new friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Armin leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. They’d been sitting in the library for god only knew how long, and while they had made some progress, it hadn’t been as productive as Armin had hoped.

“Even the researchers don’t know anything about soulmates,” Jean grumbled, voicing Armin’s thoughts. “Most of these papers are just theories.”

“It would help if they were more recent, too,” Armin sighed, propping his chin up on his palm. “Half of these are from _decades_ ago.”

“Yeah, published by the Rose Soulmates Research Centre, right?” Jean said, popping the cricks in his neck. “I thought we could go interview someone there, Brzenska loves that sort of thing. She thinks it shows _initiative_ and a _passion for learning_. Too bad it hasn’t produced anything for the past twenty years.”

Armin frowned, thumbing through his stack of research journals. It wasn’t strange for the research centre to disappear –perhaps it had been closed due to a lack of funding– but it seemed like most of its researchers had also vanished. The only high-profile researcher from the centre who was still producing any findings at all was one Professor Hanji Zoe. What had happened to everyone else? Such prominent minds in the field shouldn’t have had trouble finding a job at a university, or perhaps another research centre in Sina or even Maria. Where had they gone?

“Hey!” Jean snapped his fingers in front of Armin’s face, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Are you listening?”

Armin mentally shook himself. There was probably nothing to worry about. Armin was just overthinking things again. “I, uh, spaced out, sorry,” he said to Jean with a weak smile. “Say that again?”

Jean eyed him suspiciously, like he wasn’t sure if Armin was telling the truth or not, but let it slide. “I said, let’s call it a day,” he repeated, closing his laptop with a quiet thump. “If I read another research journal my eyes are going to fall out of my head.”

“What a charming image,” Armin said dryly, starting to clear up the mess of books and paper on the table.

Jean’s grin was lopsided as he helped Armin arrange the books into stacks. “I’m always charming,” he said, throwing Armin a wink. He was, admittedly, quite charming. Probably thanks to a lifetime spent in the public eye.

“Oh yes, you were very charming when you fell asleep half an hour ago and nearly fell off your chair,” Armin retorted, but couldn’t help smiling back.

“I’m glad you agree,” Jean sniffed haughtily, gathering half the books in his arms and making for the Sociology aisle. Armin followed with the other half, laughing quietly.

Jean wasn’t too bad, for a R.I.C.H. brat.

\--

Armin couldn’t help himself. The research centre thing was gnawing at him. The moment he got home, he sat down in front of the computer, determined to find out everything he could about it.

Apparently the centre had been government-funded; twenty years ago, the government supposedly decided that it wasn’t worth their money and cut off their funding. The centre couldn’t sustain itself and was forced to close down.

The only problem with this was that the centre had literally been producing results all the way up until its closure. Why would the government suddenly stop funding a research facility it had previously supported for nearly a decade if it was still being productive?

Plus, according to Facebook, several of the ‘vanished’ researchers were now working as government servants. The others either hadn’t listed their occupation or didn’t have a Facebook account at all (though Armin did find a Tinder profile that was vaguely disturbing). Why would the government shut down a research centre and then proceed to hire what seemed like a majority of its researchers? And why wouldn’t they employ Professor Zoe, who even had her own Wikipedia page, and had been one of the best and brightest in the field?

“I’m home,” called Mikasa from the living room. “Uncle Levi’s working late; I’m cooking tonight.”

Ever since Armin moved to Rose to attend R.I.C.H., he’d been living with Mikasa and her uncle, Levi. They were both working in the Rose government; Mikasa had chosen to do an internship instead of continuing with her education, and Levi claimed he mainly did administrative work, but Armin suspected he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He’d seen Levi without a shirt on. Nobody with a desk job was _that_ muscular.

“Welcome home,” Armin called back, rubbing at his eyes. All that searching, and all Armin was left with were more questions.

Mikasa came into his room quietly. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, concerned.

Armin blinked, wondering what she was talking about. “Oh,” he realised after a moment. “You mean the text thing?”

Mikasa nodded. She looked ready to follow Armin to school and beat some kids up. Armin didn’t quite agree with the violence, but he appreciated the sentiment. She and Eren had always been a bit more… straightforward in problem-solving.

“I’m okay now,” Armin assured her, smiling.

“Not lonely?” she asked quietly.

Armin thought about the easy conversation between him and Jean. “No,” he replied honestly. “I… might have made a friend today.”

Mikasa smiled, a tiny, beautiful thing. “Good,” she said, and disappeared into her own room.

Armin smiled after her, then turned back to the paper before him with a sigh. He’d scribbled down the names of all the vanished researchers, circling the ones who’d admitted to being government servants on Facebook. He wasn’t sure where to go from here. The internet could only do so much. If only he could ask someone…

Would Mikasa recognise any of them? She was just an intern, but maybe she’d had to fetch coffee for one of them before? Though, the chances of them being in the same department was slim…

Well, it was worth a shot. Mikasa was ridiculously observant, after all.

“Mikasa,” Armin called, coming out of his bedroom with the list in hand. Mikasa, who was already in the kitchen tying on an apron, looked up at him curiously. “Do you recognise any of these names from work? The circled ones, maybe?”

Mikasa frowned at the list. “None of them work in my department,” she said.

“Do any of them sound familiar, at least?” Armin would take anything he could get.

Mikasa squinted. “Well, maybe,” she said after a long moment. “This one, at the bottom– I think I’ve seen him in the cafeteria, sometimes. He eats everything with a lot of mustard.”

Mikasa’s memory was incredible. If she said she saw him, Armin believed her. “Do you remember anything else about him?” he tried.

“He always heads for the underground levels,” she recalled. “Not many people have clearance for those levels. Maybe he’s working on a classified project.”

What classified project would require an expert on soulmates? The whole thing was just becoming more and more mysterious with every new detail.

“Thanks, Mikasa,” Armin said, smiling. He loved a good puzzle. “Need some help?”

“Get some rest,” she told him firmly. “You look exhausted.”

Armin nodded gratefully. “Okay. Call me when dinner’s ready?”

“Of course.”

Armin disappeared into his room, wondering what his next move should be. He needed to get more information– but how? If it was a top secret government operation, there was no way Armin was getting anywhere near it. Mikasa was too junior to be in the loop, and even if Levi knew something, which he might not, he would never tell Armin. The only people who would definitely know about it would be the Prime Minister and the King, and Armin had a feeling neither of them would want to divulge government secrets to a curious kid like Armin.

Armin paused.

There was one curious kid who might have more luck.

\--

“No way,” Jean scoffed the next day, slamming his locker shut. “There’s no way he’s going to tell me anything about this.”

“Please just try?” Armin was practically begging. “Even just the tiniest bit of information you can get is fine.” Something was fishy about the research centre’s sudden closure; Armin just couldn’t let it go. He had to get to the bottom of this.

Jean sighed. “It’s been twenty years, I don’t think he remembers,” he said, sounding grumpy, walking down the hallway at a pace Armin was struggling to keep up with. “And anyway, why do you care so much? So some people had a change of occupation, so what? This has nothing to do with our project.”

“Of course it does!” Armin argued, grabbing Jean’s arm to pull him to a stop. “Think about it. These people were prepared to dedicate their lives to researching soulmates; why did they stop? Where have they gone?” He lowered his voice, looking Jean in the eyes. “What did they find that was so bad the government had to shut them down?”

Uncertainty flickered in Jean’s eyes; Armin almost had him. Time to put the final nail in the coffin.

Armin took a deep breath. He stepped back, releasing his grip on Jean’s arm. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he said, low and serious, making sure to maintain eye contact. “If there’s something… dangerous about soulmates, soulbonds, then everyone deserves to know about it. I don’t want people getting hurt just because the government is keeping secrets.”

Jean chewed on his lip for a few more moments, then sighed heavily. “You so owe me,” he grumbled, continuing to walk down the corridor. “I mean it. Like, a week of History homework at the very least.”

Armin beamed. Jean was such a simple guy. “Done.”

“…Make that two weeks.”

“Okay.”

“And a week of Geography–”

“Don’t push it, Jean,” Armin cut him off dryly. It was the first time he’d actually said Jean’s name out loud, he realised suddenly, not sure why it felt significant.

Jean laughed. “C’mon, I had to try,” he said, unapologetic, coming to a stop in front of the Politics classroom. “See you later, Armin.”

That was the first time Jean had ever said Armin’s name out loud, too. Not that it was important or anything, Armin reminded himself quickly. “Bye,” he smiled at Jean, and resolutely did not think about him on the way to Chemistry.

\--

_Play it cool, Jean, play it cool._

“So, how’s school?” Jean’s mother asked that night at dinner, as she always did.

“It’s alright,” Jean replied casually, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. He had to be careful about how he approached this. “I’m working on a Sociology project with the scholarship kid.”

“Oh, the one who bullied the Dean into accepting him?” his father laughed. “He’s got spunk. I’d like to meet him, actually. What’s the project about?”

“Soulmates,” Jean said absently, pretending to be more interested in cutting his steak. “Guy’s a genius. Said he wanted to do something challenging.”

“Has he found his soulmate yet?” his mother asked, nosy as always.

“Nah,” Jean said, but realised that he didn’t actually know. Armin had said he was “surprised” to see a soulmark like his, but that could just as easily have meant he was surprised to see a third person with the same soulmark.

“Well, what’s his soulmark?” his mother persisted. “I know a lot of people, you know, I might have seen his soulmate around!”

“I don’t think so. He’s got a king, like in chess,” Jean said, making a face. He still couldn’t believe Armin had a king and he had a queen.

“Oh, a chess piece like yours!” his mother said, surprised. “That’s quite rare. Maybe you two were destined to be friends!”

“I really don’t think it works like that,” Jean grumbled, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“It’s too bad I haven’t met anyone with a king for a soulmark,” Jean’s mother sighed, ignoring him. “You don’t know anyone with a king either, do you, dad?”

Jean’s father was oddly pale, movements stiff and tense. Jean frowned. Just a few moments ago he was laughing, as cheerful as always.

“Dad, are you okay?” Jean’s mother asked, sounding worried.

“I-I’m fine,” his father assured them, but his smile looked forced.

His mother clucked her tongue. “Have you been working yourself too hard again? I told you not to overdo it.”

“Y-Yes, that must be it,” his father agreed sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ll be fine after some rest. Please, Jean, you were saying? About your project?”

What was up with that? Jean still had a feeling like he was missing something, but ignored it. This was his chance to earn two weeks of History homework; he wasn’t about to let it slip past.

“Uh, nothing much really,” Jean said nonchalantly. “I’m a little annoyed that there aren’t more recent publications about soulmates, though. Seems like it’s just one lady contributing to the field in the past, like, twenty years.”

“How strange,” Jean’s mother said, frowning. “Dad, wasn’t there a federal research facility back in the day? For soulmates? Whatever happened to it?”

Perfect. Jean hadn’t even had to do much. Thanks, mom.

Jean’s father’s face was blank. “It was shut down,” he said shortly. “We shifted the budget around, and there was nothing left for soulmates research.”

“But surely–”

“I’m feeling a little dizzy,” his father interrupted him, standing abruptly. “Please excuse me.” He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Jean staring after him in shock.

His mother sighed. “I’ll go see if he’s alright,” she said, concerned. “You finish your dinner, darling. Bring the pudding up to your room after, if you like.” She followed her husband out the door, and Jean was left to eat dinner alone.

\--

Right, so plan A failed miserably, but Jean still had a plan B.

Jean had been running around the palace his whole life. He knew the place better than anyone: its secret passages, its hidden levers– and its hidden safes. See, Jean might not have been book smart like Armin, but he knew his father damn well, and over the years he’d correctly guessed the number for at least a third of the safes. He’d never bothered to properly look through any of them, though– documents didn’t interest 9-year-old Jean at all.

The combinations were changed every time his father found out that Jean had figured them out, so Jean just didn’t tell anyone when he figured them out. Eventually his father assumed he’d lost interest.

After bringing the pudding up to his room, Jean made sure his parents were still in their bedroom before quickly sneaking off to his father’s office. It was time to do some snooping.

There was a huge mess of paper and files on the desk. Jean would normally have ignored it all, but there was one sheet of paper right on the top, like it didn’t belong to any of these files or folders, that caught his eye.

It was… a numbered list of young royals and children of dignitaries. Near the top of the list, at number 6, Jean found his own name. Strangely, even though Historia had been born a few months before Jean, she wasn’t above him on the list– or on the list at all.

Jean snapped a picture of the list with his phone. There would be time to wonder about that later. Right now, he had to find what he could and get out.

Jean made quick work of the safe, opening the door as quietly as possible. There weren’t many documents inside. Jean went through them quickly. Files with strange codenames. All of his family’s previous passports. Jean’s birth certificate. A diagram of what looked like some sort of machine, with the code S006JK scribbled on the back.

And then–

Right at the bottom was a file titled SUBJECT 006: JEAN KIRSCHTEIN.

 _Subject_? What the hell was going on here? And why did his father have this in his safe?

Jean was almost afraid to open it.

Inside the file was all of Jean’s details: eye colour, blood type, weight at birth, even a goddamn picture of him as a newborn. There was a whole separate page on Historia and her details, too, which made sense since she was his soulmate, but _it was still fucking creepy_.

That wasn’t the creepiest part, however.

Behind those were two carefully drawn symbols. One was of Jean and Historia’s soulmark, a queen chess piece, and the other…

The other was a king chess piece.

 _Armin’s_ soulmark.  



	3. Chapter 3

“ _Armin, get over here, now._ ”

“What?” Armin had to double-check that it was, in fact, Jean who had called him at ten in the evening on a Friday night. “Jean, are you okay?”

A frustrated sigh rustled over the phone. “ _I– Just come, okay?_ ” Jean hissed desperately. “ _You know where the palace is?_ ”

Jean was serious?! “W-Well, yeah, but–”

“ _Good. See you soon._ ”

“W-Wait, Jean–!”

…

Jean had hung up.

Armin groaned into his pillow. Who the hell did that guy think he was, commanding Armin to go to his palace in the middle of the night? Armin had better things to do than entertain Prince Jean’s every whim. He wasn’t even a national of Rose, he wasn’t morally obligated to obey the damn Crown Prince. Armin had been just about to drift off to sleep when Jean’s call came, dammit!

…Still, Jean had sounded quite upset over the phone. And Jean didn’t seem the type to throw tantrums over nothing. He wouldn’t call Armin out over nothing.

Armin rolled out of bed with a grumble. Sometimes he hated being so nice.

\--

As it turned out, Jean had a perfectly good reason to call Armin out.

“I found this stuff in my dad’s safe,” he told Armin, low but urgent, the moment Armin shut the door behind him. He gestured at the coffee table, where what seemed to be photos of the aforementioned ‘stuff’ were, surprisingly, arranged in an orderly fashion.

Armin would have made a snarky comment about it, but Jean‘s expression was grim. “There was a file in there with my name on it,” he said, dark and serious and terrified. “Both our soulmarks were in there. _Only_ ours.”

What? “ _My_ soulmark, too?” he asked, feeling lost.

“Yes,” Jean confirmed, looking just as lost as Armin. “My dad started acting really weird when you came up at dinner, too. There’s something going on here, Armin, and I don’t like it!”

Jean was starting to freak out. Armin understood the feeling, but somebody had to be the rational one here, so he took a deep, steadying breath. He couldn’t afford to lose it, not right now. There would be time for panic later.

“Jean,” he said, as firmly as possible, clapping his hands on Jean’s shoulders. Jean jumped a little, but he looked less panicked than before, so Armin counted it as a win. “We’re going to figure this out, I promise. Let’s just take this one step at a time, okay?”

Jean took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he did so. “Okay,” he said quietly after a moment. “Thanks, Armin.”

Armin smiled warmly, happy to have been able to help. “No problem. Let’s have a look at what you found, shall we?”

\--

Honestly, there wasn’t much to go on. Sure, Jean was number six on the list, and subject 006 on the file– but what did that mean? And that diagram, what was it of? It seemed too simple for such a huge machine. Was that what it actually looked like, or had it been simplified for some reason?

Armin only conceded defeat when he fell asleep on the sofa in Jean’s room, head back and mouth open, loosely holding a pen in one hand and some rough paper in the other. (He only found out that this was what he looked like later; apparently Jean had been unable to resist taking a photo. The bastard.)

“Sorry,” he yawned when he jolted awake, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just so–” he yawned widely “–sleepy.”

“If you’re tired, go to sleep,” Jean told him, still staring holes into the photos. “You can take the bed if you want.”

Armin yawned again. “But it’s your bed.”

“Nah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Jean assured him. Or, at least, he said something along those lines, Armin felt like he was understanding concepts instead of words right now. “I’ll probably be out here for a while longer, anyway.”

“I’ll keep you company, then,” Armin decided, words slurring a little. “I’m… really smart… can help…”

Jean huffed a little laugh. “You’ll fall asleep, idiot.”

“No I won’t,” Armin mumbled. The world was becoming more and more dark and blurry, but that had nothing to do with Armin. He wasn’t falling asleep. He wouldn’t…

\--

Armin woke up the next morning to find a pillow under his head and a thick woollen blanket draped over him. Ah, he must have fallen asleep. After he said he wouldn’t, too. How embarrassing.

Which meant… the pillow and blanket… Jean?

The thought inexplicably made Armin feel warm. _That was very nice of him,_ Armin thought happily, reaching for his phone to check the time.

Only to find fifty-one texts and forty-nine missed calls, mostly from Mikasa.

_???_

_Armin??_

_WHERE ARE YOU_

_armin if this is a trick I will kill you._

All of the rest were in the same sort of vein. Armin swallowed thickly. Mikasa and Levi hadn’t come home yet when Armin left, and he’d forgotten to leave Mikasa a message that he was staying over at Jean’s. Mikasa was definitely furious with him. She’d even stopped using emojis. Armin was so dead when he got home.

Amidst the texts from Mikasa, there was one from, surprisingly, Levi.

_The next time you decide to spend the night with prince charming, tell Mikasa before she gives herself constipation. I hope you used condoms._

Armin put his phone face down on the table and buried his burning red face into his pillow. He didn’t know how Levi found out he was at Jean’s, and he honestly didn’t care at that point. He was still too scarred by the fact that Levi thought he was _having sex with Jean oh my god_.

Jean’s yawn came from somewhere behind the sofa. His bed, most likely. “Armin?” his voice called softly, sluggish with sleep. “You awake?”

Armin forced his embarrassment down, rolling over onto his side. He wasn’t going to let this make things weird between him and Jean. “Yeah,” he answered as normally as possible. “What time is it?”

“Time for breakfast,” said Jean, sheets rustling. “What do you want to eat?” Apparently, he’d gotten out of bed, judging by the footsteps shuffling across the room.

“Uh,” said Armin, sitting up to pop the cricks in his joints. What was polite to ask for? He’d only ever slept over at Eren’s or Mikasa’s, where Armin was treated like family, not a guest. “Anything’s fine, I guess. Whatever you’re having.”

Jean actually used an intercom and ordered his servants to bring up extra breakfast.

“What?” he demanded when he caught Armin staring.

“Nothing,” Armin said automatically, then quickly continued, “I just forgot you were Crown Prince Jean who lives in a palace and has actual servants.”

“Who did you think I was?” Jean asked, rolling his eyes, but his words weren’t as sarcastic as Armin expected.

Armin shrugged. “Just… Jean,” he replied simply. “The lazy genius asshole who does alright in school with minimal effort. My friend.”

Jean scoffed, coming over to shove at Armin’s head. “Who’s a lazy asshole?” he grumbled, but seemed pleased nonetheless, so Armin just laughed. “There’s spare toothbrushes in the drawer under the sink. Go on and brush your teeth, your breath stinks.”

“Does not,” Armin had to argue on principle, but went to do so anyway.

\--

“So what do we do about all this?” Jean asked over breakfast, nodding at the photos in a neat stack at the edge of the table.

“Uh, what?” Armin asked, still sounding a little dazed. He’d literally gaped at breakfast, even though it was just regular eggs, bacon and hash browns with baked beans and fresh croissants. The kitchen staff had been pleased that Jean had a friend over, according to Gertrud, and had sent up a slice of cake for Armin, but even that was just the red velvet from the night before. Jean had to wonder what kind of breakfast Armin was used to, then, if this was as awe-inspiring as he’d made it seem.

Jean snapped his fingers in front of Armin’s face. That had seemed to work last time. “Armin, focus,” he chided. “The soulmates thing. What’s our next move?”

Armin frowned, getting the little furrow between his eyebrows that Jean was starting to understand meant that he was thinking. “I think,” he said slowly, “the key is that diagram. S006JK, right? It could mean… subject 006 Jean Kirschtein, maybe? It’s a long shot, but whatever that machine does, I think it’s done it to you.”

“Then where do you come into this?” Jean asked. “Why’s your soulmark in my file?”

Armin shook his head. “I might not even be involved,” he said. “It could be related to my soulmate, not me.”

Jean frowned, doubtful. “Really? What are the chances of that?”

“It’s _possible_ , but… I don’t know. We just don’t have enough information yet.”

Which was true. Everything they’d found so far had just led to more questions. “So how do we get some?”

Armin grinned. “I think it’s time we paid Professor Zoe a visit.”

\--

“Why do I have to wear this?” Jean complained yet again, sitting next to Armin on the train, who was completely ignoring his whining at this point.

Armin had insisted on getting Jean into a disguise, which, okay, Jean could understand, because they’d be mobbed be paparazzi. He had been downright offended, however, when Armin threw open his (impressively sized) wardrobe and declared everything unsuitable.

“It’s not that you have bad fashion sense, it’s just that it all looks too much like you,” Armin had said soothingly. "C'mon, let’s go to my place. A friend of mine left some stuff there that you might be able to wear. I need a change of clothes anyway.”

And that was how Jean had been forced into a pair of ridiculously tight jeans, a tank top for a band called _Megadeth_ , of all things, and a red plaid flannel Jean was reasonably sure had belonged to a lumberjack at some point. Armin had even made him wear a beanie to cover his hair, but at least he’d had a choice between a plain black one (thank god) or one that inexplicably ordered others to OBEY.

“You look good,” Armin had assured him, and took a picture of Jean in this absolutely ridiculous getup with his phone. No doubt payback for the one Jean had taken of him sleeping with his mouth wide open, so Jean deserved it.

Normally, if Jean hadn’t been so annoyed about the clothes, he might have been more interested in Armin’s quiet explanations of how public transport worked. He knew all that in theory, vaguely, but actually taking a train was different from seeing the train speed by from the window of his chauffeur’s car.

It was strange. He’d been to so many countries, seen so many places, and yet, he’d never taken the time to see this side of Rose. It made him feel humbled. He also had a newfound respect for Armin, who, despite never even setting foot in the Trost district of Rose before, navigated its trains, buses and streets with ease, checking his phone every so often for directions.

Jean’s mother hadn’t been born royal. He wished he’d let her tell him the stories of her childhood like she always tried. Jean had always been more interested in fairy tales of princes and princesses, had thought the stories of a commoner’s life would mean nothing to him.

He’d ask her about to tell him when he got home.

“What are you getting all misty-eyed about?” Armin teased, elbowing Jean playfully. “C’mon, this is it. Titan University.”

“How are we getting in?” Jean asked, eyeing the gate in their way. There was a sensor next to it, but neither of them had an ID. It wasn’t too tall, they could probably climb it– but there was a security office right there, so that probably wasn’t a good idea. Maybe if they were quiet–

“Excuse me!” Armin called loudly, waving at a black-haired girl on the other side of the gate.

“What are you doing?” Jean hissed.

“I got this, don’t worry,” Armin assured him, then turned a sheepish grin on the startled girl. “I forgot my lanyard, can you let me in?”

The girl’s eyes glanced from Armin to Jean suspiciously.

“I know he looks like that, but he’s just my boyfriend, not a thug,” Armin lied easily. How could he say that with a straight face?! Jean had to turn away to keep his embarrassed blush from giving them away. Also, a _thug_? _Really_?

The girl still didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Please? I have a meeting with Professor Zoe in like three minutes, she’ll kill me if I’m late! You know how she gets about work,” Armin pleaded, blue eyes wide and desperate.

The girl sighed and came over to the gate. “You better run,” she told him, and touched her ID to the sensor.

Armin beamed at her, dragging Jean through the gate and actually _running_ towards the main building. “Thanks, so much, I owe you one!” he yelled over his shoulder, and didn’t stop running until they were out of sight.

“Your thug boyfriend, Armin?” Jean demanded, offended. “Really?” He was actually impressed at Armin’s acting ability, but he was not going to just let him call Jean a thug.

Armin laughed, breathless, pink with exertion. “It’s not my fault you have a scary resting face! I had to say something, or she wasn’t going to let you in!”

He was right, but that didn’t mean Jean had to be happy about it. “I’m only scary because of this _Megadeth_ shirt,” he sniffed, “and that was _your_ fault.”

Armin rolled his eyes, still laughing. “Okay, okay, my fault,” he conceded, though it sounded like he was just humouring Jean. “Let’s go find Professor Zoe.”

\--

They found her office door half open, revealing her muttering to herself as she scribbled something at her desk. What Jean could see of the office was covered in mess: papers strewn all over everything, books opened on the floor, shelves in total disarray.

Armin knocked on the door hesitantly. “Professor?”

Professor Zoe looked up, her face wild. “What?” she snapped, not so much angry as surprised to be interrupted.

“Uh, we just wanted to ask you a few questions. For our school project,” Armin began, but the professor waved him off.

“Go away,” she said shortly. “I don’t have time for things I already know. Come back when you have something interesting.”

Armin looked disheartened. Jean supposed if she didn’t want to talk to them, they couldn’t make her, but…

Jean pulled up the picture he’d taken of the diagram on his phone, then set it down in front of Professor Zoe.

“What’s that?” she asked absently, not even bothering to look at it.

Jean let out a huff of annoyance. “You tell us. Look, we’ve read all your work in the past twenty-five years. You’re the expert on soulmates, right? So what is this thing?”

The professor glanced at it– then froze. “My baby,” she murmured, as if in a daze, picking up the phone and staring at the diagram. “Oh, my sweet baby.”

Jean and Armin exchanged glances.

“Professor?” Armin tried carefully. “Do you know what it is?”

She looked up at them with actual tears in her eyes. “Of course I do,” she said, her tone reverent. “I designed it.”  



	4. Chapter 4

“This machine was my life’s work,” said Professor Hanji, as she preferred to be called. “I first designed it when I was still working at the R.S.R.C.– that is, the Rose Soulmates Research Centre. We had plans to build it, but the centre shut down before we got the funding.”

Armin looked intrigued by all this, but Jean wasn’t satisfied. She still hadn’t answered their question. “Yeah, okay, but what does it do?” he repeated yet again.

Professor Hanji’s eyes, if possible, went even more dreamy. “When I was your age,” she began, and Jean had to force himself not to facepalm in frustration, “we weren’t taught anything about soulmates in school. Everything we learnt was by word of mouth, from our parents– but I had so many questions that they couldn’t answer. How is the soulbond decided? What determines the place you get your soulmark? Were soulmates destined to meet, or were there people with exactly the same mark who never met in all their lives?

“The question I was most interested in, however, was this: how is the soulmark connected to the soulmates? If the soulmarks are removed, will the soulmates still be able to find each other and choose each other as soulmates? If they were given different soulmarks, would the soulbond between the original soulmates be stronger than that between the perceived soulmates? Is the soulbond tied to the soulmarks, or to the souls themselves?”

Jean felt a sense of horror descending upon him. “So,” he forced himself to say past the lump of dread in his throat, “that machine, it…?”

Professor Hanji nodded. “I designed it to be able to remove and replace soulmarks,” she confirmed cheerfully, like she hadn’t just dealt a blow to Jean with her words. “With no harm to the subject, of course.”

Jean felt like he was in a daze. His legs were shaking; he had to lean against the wall for support. Subject 006: Jean Kirschtein. Did that mean… that Jean’s soulmark had been replaced?

Jean felt sick.

“Could it be done to a baby?” he heard Armin ask distantly. “Or a fetus in the womb?”

“Soulmarks begin to darken on the skin when a baby is at least a few minutes old, and take about an hour to fully form,” Professor Hanji told him. “The shape of the mark is determined by the arrangement of the cells beneath the skin; this machine can read the arrangement of cells to predict the soulmark, and manipulate them to change it.”

“So,” Armin began, sounding infuriatingly calm while Jean’s mind had been blown. “When the research centre was shut down, do you know what happened to the other researchers? It seems like you’re the only one who’s still actively researching soulmates.”

Professor Hanji sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t seem to get a hold of many of them. Seems like some of them have gone into government service, but I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

“Do you have any idea why they would have gone into government service at all?” Armin persisted. “It just seems strange that so many soulmates researchers should join the government, all at once.”

Professor Hanji frowned. “I was asked to join, too, shortly after the research centre closed down. Some sort of project the government was working on, regarding soulmates. I declined; one of the conditions of joining was that I wouldn’t be able to pursue my research any longer. Even though I’m here, with a terrible research budget and an even worse pay, I don’t regret my decision on that day.”

Armin nodded slowly. “Thank you for your time,” he said to Professor Hanji, putting a hand on Jean’s back. “We should get going.”

Professor Hanji smiled like Jean’s world hadn’t fallen apart around him. “Anything for a curious student,” she said happily.

\--

“Do you want to talk about it?” Armin offered quietly when they were finally back in Armin’s apartment.

Jean shook his head numbly. “That list we found,” he said, voice hoarse. “Were they all– people who’ve had their soulmarks changed?”

“Most likely, yes.”

Jean just couldn’t understand it. “Who would do this?” he asked, angry and confused. “And _why_? What do they stand to gain from messing with people’s lives like this?!”

“Well,” Armin began slowly, that little furrow between his eyebrows making an appearance. “I think… all those researchers must have been recruited by the government for a reason.”

“You think the _government_ did this?!” Jean demanded, incredulous.

“Why else would they need all those researchers in a top secret government department?” Armin challenged. “They had to close down the research centre before anyone found out about that machine. Even now they make sure funding to soulmates research is low, so nobody, including Professor Hanji, can ever make it, so they can keep it to themselves.”

“And what are they using it for?” Jean snapped. “Just for laughs?”

Armin was relentless. “For control,” he corrected. “Think about it, Jean. If it wasn’t for your soulbond with Princess Historia, Sina might not have joined the Wall Union. Every person on that list– every single one of them has had an important, influential soulbond.”

Jean shook his head. He just– couldn’t believe this. And, he realised with a shock, his father had _known_ about it, had kept Jean’s file in his safe for– possibly Jean’s whole life. Had told Jean that his soulmate was Princess Historia of Sina, that he had to treat her well and love her always.

“Jean.” Armin’s voice was kind, but firm. “We have to do something about this. We can’t just let this happen. You, all those people– this isn’t fair to you, or your soulmates. And who knows who’ll be next?”

“Who’ll believe us?” Jean heard himself say, miserable and broken. “My father, who kept this from me my whole life? The police, owned by the government? No way.”

“We have to try,” Armin insisted, eyes huge and determined. “What they’re doing is disgusting and wrong. And if we just sit here and let them keep doing it, _we_ will be just as disgusting and wrong as they are! It’s our duty, to everyone who has been and will be affected by this machine, to stop this.”

Armin grasped Jean’s hand in his, staring him in the eye. “Are you a king, or are you a coward?”

Jean stared back, eyes flickering over the grim determination of Armin’s jaw, the fire in his eyes, the way the sun shining on him from behind made it seem like he had a halo. He looked down at their clasped hands, the dark king piece on the back of Armin’s hand in stark contrast to Armin’s fair skin, taunting him.

_Are you a king, or are you a coward?_

Jean chuckled.

 _The king is the one pulling all the strings,_ he’d said to Armin just two days ago. _All of his subjects’ power are his to command._

“You’re the king here,” he told Armin, and meant it.

Just then, the front door opened with a creak, and Jean suddenly remembered that they were right in the middle of Armin’s living room. Armin immediately let go of Jean’s hand, going red in the face.

“Oh, brought the boyfriend home, huh,” a rather short, grumpy-looking man drawled as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. “What’s with that face, you got diarrhea?”

“U-Uncle Levi!” said Armin suddenly, earnest.

The man– Uncle Levi– paused. “What, brat? And stop calling me ‘uncle’.”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story…”

\--

Levi sipped at his tea calmly.

“I’m supposed to believe that you two have, by yourselves, uncovered a whole government conspiracy that has been going on under our noses for twenty years?” he summarised, not disbelieving but not approving either.

“Uncle Levi–”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” Levi interrupted, sharp gaze gliding from Armin to Jean. “I’m saying that this is a big accusation for which your evidence is circumstantial at best. If you’re wrong about this, there will be serious consequences for us both. I trust you and your judgement, Armin, so I’m asking you: are you absolutely sure?”

Armin didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” he said decisively.

“Okay.” Levi finished off his tea. “I’ll look into it.” He disappeared into the kitchen to wash up his mug.

Armin heaved a sigh of relief. He felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. It was out of their hands now. They’d done their duty; all they had to do now was wait.

“What if we’re wrong?” Jean murmured from beside Armin.

Armin thought back to the list, the machine, Jean’s file. He smiled, laying a reassuring hand over Jean’s.

“We’re not,” he promised.

\--

The next few weeks came and went with no news from Levi.

Armin was sure Jean would have driven himself crazy with anxiety if he hadn’t thrown himself into his schoolwork. His teachers were pleasantly surprised; oddly enough, many of them personally thanked Armin for being ‘such a good influence on the talented young prince’. It greatly amused Armin, because Armin hadn’t had anything to do with it whatsoever; Jean pretended not to be embarrassed, but was, Armin could tell.

People at school started treating Armin like a real person. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that Jean never bothered hiding that he and Armin were friends. In fact, Jean had started pulling away from his previous clique to hang out with Armin instead, which honestly wasn’t too surprising. He hadn't ever seemed to genuinely like anyone in that clique the same way he did Armin.

Speaking of, Armin wasn’t sure if it was the realisation that Jean hadn’t actually found his soulmate or increased exposure to one another, but now there was an intensity to their friendship, like a low thrum of what Armin could only describe as awareness below all their interactions. It wasn’t like anything Armin had ever felt, but it was natural, comfortable, like sinking into the bath after a long day.

Two months later, Levi’s investigation finally drew to a close.

\--

Levi sat Armin and Jean down the moment he was able and told them everything.

The day after they’d told him, Levi himself had taken a secret visit down to the top-secret departments and saw the machine with his own two eyes. Unable to trust the government, Levi had turned to the Survey Corps for help– the Survey Corps was an international surveillance agency dedicated to, among other things, ensuring a low level of corruption in a country’s government.

What action had actually been taken was confidential information, but from what Levi had said and Mikasa’s rather obvious hints, Armin gathered that Levi had left a bug in the room while he was down there, and the majority of the two months had been spent listening to it and waiting.

Armin didn’t know what exactly they’d found as evidence. All he knew was that a good number of politicians were suddenly being found guilty of some form of treason or other and being thrown into prison. And honestly, that was good enough for him.

(He did suspect, however, that whatever had been said involved the newly announced royal baby of the sovereigns of Maria. He couldn’t stop his brain from working, even if he tried.)

Levi assured him that all copies of the blueprints to the machine had been destroyed. The machine itself had ‘accidentally’ been irreversibly damaged. It was then melted down and discarded as scrap metal.

Nobody would ever be hurt by that machine ever again.

\--

The call was unexpected, to say the least.

“I’ve got something you’ll definitely want to see!” came a familiar, slightly manic, gleeful voice over the phone.

“Professor Hanji?” Jean asked, shocked. “What– How did you even get my number?!”

“Ahaha,” she laughed cheerfully. “Anyway, come and see me soon. Bring your blond friend, too, okay?”

“No, wait, you didn’t answer–”

…

She hung up.

\--

“Here,” said Professor Hanji gleefully, bringing out what looked like a ray gun and putting it in Jean’s hands. “It’s small, and a bit more limited than the original, but it works. It took me twenty years to design one that didn’t cost an arm and a leg to build!”

Jean could feel his jaw dropping in shock.

“You mean, this is…?” Armin trailed off, looking just as gobsmacked as Jean.

Professor Hanji nodded proudly. “A soulmark machine! This one’s different, though– it’s designed to restore a person’s original soulmark. Just in case,” she added, winking at Jean.

“How’d you know?” Jean asked, turning the ray gun over in his hands in awe.

Professor Hanji actually looked a little sheepish. “Levi came to talk to me. We used to be classmates, way back in the day; he told me what my machine had done to you and all those other people.” She paused, looking upset. “I’m sorry, truly.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jean said, smiling. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Hanji smiled back, then nodded at the ray gun. “Go on, give it a try!” she coaxed. “Just point it at your soulmark and pull the trigger.”

Jean took a deep breath. From the moment he’d found out that his soulmark was fake, he’d been preparing himself to never know what his true soulmark was, or who his soulmate might be. Now, all of those worries meant nothing. Once he pulled the trigger, he’d know for sure.

(He had his suspicions already, but it was always better to _know_.)

His hands were steady as he pressed the tip to the queen chess piece just above his left elbow and pulled the trigger.

There was no flash of bright light, no big sensation of change, but Jean’s heart was hammering in his chest all the same.

Slowly, Jean pulled the ray gun away to reveal his new (old) soulmark–

A king chess piece.

“Oh,” squeaked Hanji softly, glancing between the two of them as they stared at one another.

“Oh my god,” Jean said faintly, “my soulmate is a nerd.”

Armin’s laugh was bright and clear and absolutely delighted. “Shut up,” he laughed, and pulled Jean into their first (best) kiss.


	5. Epilogue

“So I was thinking,” Jean began, fingers playing with Armin’s hair. “I have this awesome soulmark-restoring ray gun and a list of people who’ve had their soulmarks forcibly replaced. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Armin grinned into Jean’s shoulder, lacing the fingers of his right hand with Jean’s left. “I’m thinking it’s our duty to make sure those people know the truth.”

“Actually, I was thinking we should make out more, but I guess that works,” Jean teased, legs tangling together with Armin’s on the smooth sheets. “You know, you still owe me two weeks of History homework.”

Armin snorted. “Like I was ever going to just _do_ it for you. I figured I’d just offer you tutoring.”

Jean huffed, half annoyed and half amused. “You’re such an ass. Worst soulmate ever.”

Armin looked up then, moved to press sweet soft kisses all the way up Jean’s neck before kissing Jean’s mouth, hot and slow and lazy. “Best soulmate ever,” he corrected smugly when they pulled away, settling his head back down on Jean’s chest.

Jean had to agree. Best soulmate ever.

\--

_A+_

_A clear and coherent essay with constant use of appropriate terminology, very detailed and informative. Extremely well researched; constant evidence of independent learning. Excellent work, you two._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, you can come find me on my [writing blog](writers-haven.tumblr.com).
> 
> Prompt: "The duty of youth is to challenge corruption" -Kurt Cobain  
> Team: AU
> 
> On a scale of 1 to 10:
> 
> 1\. How in character was my fic?  
> 2\. How well did my fic handle the prompt?  
> 3\. Overall enjoyment?
> 
> Voting concludes **29th August 2015** at 11:59pm PST!
> 
> [Here's a link to my competitor from Team Canon!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/JearminSummerSplash2015/works/4574667)
> 
> [Please check out the other works for the Jearmin Summer Splash Here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/JearminSummerSplash2015)


End file.
